A Night At The Opera
by DreamsBeyondTheBarricade
Summary: Even at the barricades of freedom, one can feel a bit lonely at times, even a faithful leader and a neglected lover. But might a quiet night in the wine shop become the trigger of a conversation between Enjolras and Éponine? "'Please stay, Enjolras. Please,' she whispered. 'I don't want to be alone.' 'Don't do this to me, 'Ponine,' he sighed. 'I can't. You love Marius.'" E/É.


Enjolras touched the tip of his rifle with a thoughtful expression set upon his face. Such a funny thing, life. It could be beautiful or painful, yet it was so easy to end it. One swift movement of his finger and he could murder even the bravest of men. He wouldn't use his rifle to murder anyone, though – not that afternoon, and not if it wasn't necessary.

He glanced at Jean-Baptiste Joly, their medical student, who was taking care of the wounded and the mourning. Most of the students had come out of the first attack to the barricade unscathed, although a few of them had been severely wounded. He sighed miserably when he saw how his good friend Combeferre tried to clean a deep cut on his thigh, with the help of one of Joly's sanitizers. He saw Courfeyrac and Grantaire sitting together as they shared a glass of wine – maybe it would be the last one. The _Amis de l'ABC_ were starting to weaken, although Enjolras's spirit remained lively and optimistic – surely the people would have to rise sooner or later.

He saw her just a second later. She was sitting at the corner of the wine shop, gazing down at her bare feet. Marius was reading one of his dear Cosette's letters, only a few feet away from where the neglected lover sat. As much as he liked Marius, Enjolras felt like he was deeply hurting the girl's feelings.

Only a second later, Enjolras saw how his good friend rose to his feet and waved the letter happily at him.

'She loves me, Enjolras!' he exclaimed, after pressing the letter to his lips. 'She loves me, and I love her…oh, what will happen if I don't make it through?'

'Surely you would keep us from your silly mourning.' grumbled Enjolras under his breath. He was starting to get tired of Marius's non-stop chatter about love and that Cosette girl – in fact, what annoyed him the most was to see that Éponine let out a loud sob only a second later and Marius didn't even bother looking back at her. The joyous law student just skimmered out of the café and walked outside, willing to show his letter to his other friends.

Enjolras studied Éponine's expression for a few moments. She was now weeping quietly, her eyes pressed against her knees. He felt a strange pity towards her. No, not just pity – he had always thought that Éponine was such a clever, corageous girl, despite her humble origins. She was perhaps the bravest girl he had ever met, in fact. She deserved better than simply mourning about lovesick Marius Pontmercy.

He pressed his eyes closed for a second, as his mind went back to the first time he had seen her. It had been a cold January afternoon, in which Éponine had been waiting for Marius outside the Café Musain. He had been struck by her presence there and, although none of her features looked very impressive as they were all covered in dirt and mud, he had realized that she had very beautiful brown eyes – the most beautiful he had ever seen, in fact. Soon later, however, he found out that the aforementioned young lady seeked Marius Pontmercy's love, which had somehow irritated Enjolras. He had tried to forget those brown eyes, although he still felt something funny stirring inside him whenever his green orbs met the brown eyes of Éponine Thérnardier.

He gently dropped his red flag and walked over to her. The girl didn't bother looking at him, but he took a seat next to her anyway. He heard her soft sobs and sighed deeply before rubbing her arm, in a rather awkward attempt to comfort her. Enjolras had never been good at talking to women – he could easily move mountains with his tongue when it came to politics, but he wasn't really acquainted with honest, face-to-face conversations, particularly those concerning one's feelings. As a child, he would always keep things to himself – his father always scolded him for not focusing on school and his mother passed away long before Enjolras could start making her proud.

'You know you deserve better, right 'Ponine?' he asked quietly.

Éponine sniffled quietly, and glared at him. 'What do you care? It s'none of your business.'

'It is,' said Enjolras. 'For you are now one of my soldiers and I must make sure you are all right. Is it because of Pontmercy's mistress, Cosette?'

'She's no mistress of his,' Éponine corrected hastily. 'Not for now at least.'

Enjolras sighed. 'Well, I meant this young lady Pontmercy is rather – keen on, _mademoiselle_.'

'I'm no lady, m'sieur,' she replied quietly. 'I'm just Éponine.'

'Every woman is a lady to the eyes of God and democracy,' replied Enjolras. Then he chuckled, 'And I'm no sir, either. I'm just Cyriac Enjolras.'

Enjolras gave Éponine a weak smile as he rubbed her back comfortingly. It looked like everything would be clear and peaceful for the rest of the evening, which looked ideal for all of the students and the little civilians who had joined them. Éponine, however, felt like it would be an afternoon wasted – all alone, mourning in a corner of the Café Musain. But now she had Enjolras by her side, which felt eerily comforting.

'Why do you talk to me?' she asked bluntly only a second later. 'You could be having one of your cultured, intelligent conversation with any of your friends. You could be discussing Plato's _The Republic_ with Combeferre, drinking a glass of wine with Grantaire as both of you recite Homer's _Odyssey_. Why me, of all people?'

Enjolras shrugged. He really didn't have an answer for that. 'You were feeling upset and I decided to help. You're one in a million, Éponine: not many women would have dared coming with us. You have stuck with us after all, and I feel like you're even braver than some of my men here.'

Now it was Éponine's turn to smile. Enjolras could be a heck of a rebel at times, always preaching justice and honor to the last rock in the street, but he could also hold a quite acceptable conversation. She looked up at his blond curls, which stuck to his forehead, drenched with sweat. His green eyes flashed optimistically, not knowing what layed ahead of them – two days of gruesome battle, in which many souls – including theirs – would be lost forever. She involuntarily thought that the head of the rebellion _was_ rather attractive. But was he really worth it?

'Do you know how to read, Éponine?' he asked then, trying to be as tactful as possible.

'No,' answered Éponine, shrugging. 'Cosette did, and she once tried to teach me, but I wasn't interested and ignored her. I regret it deeply.'

Enjolras handed her a small book. It had very simple words written on it, with a big font and very clearly printed onto the yellowy paper. Éponine studied it carefully for a few seconds.

'I can teach you how to read if you'd like,' he offered.

Éponine smiled. 'Are you sure you don't have to – rebuild the barricade, help your men, or simply relax?'

Enjolras shook his head. 'I'd very much rather spend it with you, 'Ponine. Besides, my men are already doing all the work.' He offered her a smile and pointed at the first word. 'There says _poisson_.'

'I always thought that _poisson_ would be spelled something like _puason_,' admitted Éponine shyly. 'As _chien_ would be something similar to _shian_, and so on.'

'French language is rather tricky in that sense,' said Enjolras. He then smiled kindly at her and rubbed her arm. 'Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get the basics if we focus tonight.'

Éponine nodded, and firmly started trying to pronounce some of the words in the book, being corrected by a polite Enjolras. From the table, Grantaire and Courfeyrac looked at them with surprised expressions, the former perhaps a bit too drunk already to fully realize what was going on around him. Outside the wine shop, Marius and Joly shared a conversation about their beloveds as the latter healed the wounded and whispered words of soothe to the mourning. Combeferre tried to lift the students' spirits with his philosophical, delusional words, while Gavroche scurried around the place, always seeking something to do for his friends.

It felt eerily nice to have some peace at the barricade at last.

...

A few hours later, well into the night, everyone was asleep but Enjolras and Éponine. The girl had progressed extraordinarily well, and Enjolras had realized that she would have been a brilliant reader had she been born in a better off family. He still had to correct her at times, but they had now moved on to whispering short sentences in the dead of the night, while everyone else slept and little Gavroche watched over the barricade.

'Well,' Enjolras sighed as he fumbled for his pocket watch. He saw that it was already three in the morning, and turned towards Éponine. 'Tomorrow will be a really long day – we shall continue tomorrow night.'

'If we're both still alive, that is,' chuckled Éponine miserably.

Enjolras gave her a stern look. 'Of course we will, 'Ponine. We will all live to see the new France that's ahead of us.'

'I'm pretty sure _I_ won't,' she said sadly, gazing down at her feet. 'I'm not strong, I'm dreadful at shooting and I'm not exactly fast.' This last part wasn't true at all – Éponine definitely had a knack for running, particularly after being involved in various of her father's misdemeanors.

'You will not die.' Enjolras assured. After hesitating for a couple of seconds, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and added, 'Good night, 'Ponine.'

The blond-haired revolutionary was about to stand up and walk back to his bunk when Éponine caught hold of his black neck scarf and pressed her lips against his. Although shocked at first, Enjolras soon found out that he couldn't back away from the Thérnardiers' eldest. He finally kissed her back, his tongue slowly – almost politely – making its way into Éponine's mouth. It was a gentle, loving kiss, which led to a second one. Enjolras felt how Éponine's fingers started tangling into his curly blond locks, as his hand gently ran up and down her back. After a couple of minutes, he gently pulled away from the kiss and looked at her with his eyebrows knitted and feeling how a wound that he thought his love for Patria had healed months ago started stinging in his chest again.

'Why are you doing this, 'Ponine?' he asked quietly. He tried not to stare into her beautiful blond eyes, resisting the urge to caress her cheek lightly. 'Why now? You love Marius.'

Éponine gazed down at her feet. 'I don't know. I've always felt conflicted. I love Marius, or at least I think I used to – but after he met Cosette I found out that I didn't care that much about him anymore. Not as deeply as I did before, at least.'

'You were crying only a few hours ago about him, mademoiselle.' pointed Enjolras, still not daring to look away from Éponine's brown eyes.

Éponine shook her head gently and let out what seemed like a small sigh. 'It had nothing to do with Marius.'

'Why did you cry then?' he asked.

'Does the name Thérnardier ring a bell to you? Aside from being my surname, of course.'

Enjolras nodded meekly. He knew of monsieur Thérnardier's misdemeanors and schemes, for some of his friends had been scammed by the man over the last few months. He knew, however, that Éponine was nothing like the rest of her family – she was sweet yet strong, shy yet courageous. She was the synthesis of what Enjolras would have called a perfect woman, had that been the time and place to say so.

He felt something drumming in his chest as he looked up at Éponine's brown eyes and realized that all that he wanted to do right then was to kiss and love her all night, to feel her close to him.

'My father has just given away my two little brothers to a rich man who wants to put them to work in a factory in La Boule,' said Éponine quietly. 'Gavroche told me before. Of course, Marius's cheery attitude didn't help either.'

Enjolras closed his eyes for a few seconds and then opened them again to find Éponine's saddened expression. He didn't know what to say at that precise moment, for nothing like that had ever happened to him – he was an only child and came from a wealthy Parisian family. But he finally rubbed her arm soothingly and whispered gently as he pressed a kiss to her temple, 'I'm sure everything will be all right, 'Ponine.' Although he most certainly wasn't.

'Please stay, Enjolras. Please,' she whispered. 'I don't want to be alone.'

'Don't do this to me, 'Ponine,' he sighed. 'I can't. I know you love Marius, and we're better off that way.'

'I love him no more than I love Courfeyrac or Grantaire.' she whispered.

'Then what has so suddenly changed your mind?' asked Enjolras, almost angrily.

He eyed Éponine so furiously that it almost hurt him. The girl gazed down at her feet, not daring to open her mouth. She mumbled once or twice, but a second later she finally spoke up.

'A man by the name of Cyriac Enjolras,' breathed Éponine in a faint whisper.

For a few seconds Enjolras did nothing but blink repeatedly, Éponine's eyes gazing down in shame. Then, a second later, Enjolras leaned forward and pressed his lips against Éponine's. This time, the kiss was followed by a second one, and after the second one came the third and fourth and fifth ones. Enjolras felt Éponine's fingers roaming through his blond curls, as he momentarily broke the kiss to look at her in the eye for a second.

'Are you sure of this?' he asked quietly.

'I think I have always been.' said Éponine.

Enjolras felt how a smile creeped up in his face. In a few hours it would be time to fight again, but for now he longed for a few hours with the woman he had denied loving for so long.

Brown met green, and so both of them melted into something deeper than love – something even more heavenly than life itself.

_In my life, she has burst like the music of angels, the light of the sun._

* * *

**There you go! I wrote this after watching Les Mis for the second time yesterday, but I only just finished giving it its last touches. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it!**

**By the way – I made up the title with the help of the Les Mis OST track "Red & Black", when Enjolras says: "Do we fight for the right to a night at the opera now?" As if suggesting that Marius's love towards Cosette was all opera-ish. Thought I'd point that out!**

**Review, pretty please with a cherry on top?**

**Written by Juno on the 4th of January, 2013.**


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